Bad Dreams
by PsychicDreams
Summary: [Sam/Dean, AU] An encounter with a dream's demon shows things to Dean he's not sure he's ready to see.
1. Chapter 1

(Note: This is an AU. I wrote this back in 2012, so it could be a bit rough around the edges. Sam and Dean managed, barely, to avert the apocalypse and have continued on being hunters.)

Computer monitors went flying as Dean hurtled through them, the force from the demigod tossing him like a ragdoll through the empty warehouse. He really hoped Sam had managed to get all the ingredients from Bobby, because he wasn't sure how they'd take him down otherwise. He hadn't actually intended on confronting the damn thing. All he'd been sent in to do was find the object the demigod of dreams had been cursed into.

"I get it," he commented as he stumbled to his feet with his trademark grin, "you've been trapped for awhile and you're a tad cranky when you wake up. I ain't the best either."

The demigod gave him a disgusted look, his skin dark and glowing tattoos covered every inch of his bald head and probably the rest of his body. They were a kaleidoscope of color, ranging from deep blues to oranges to purples and whites.

He looked around for some kind of weapon and dove for a shotgun that had been knocked out of his hand, but the demigod was faster. Dean gasped as his throat was grabbed and desperately he tried to breathe when unnaturally strong fingers started to crush his windpipe. He kicked feebly, but he didn't even get close. Amethyst eyes were the last thing he saw as he passed out.

What woke him next was the feeling of fingers on his shoulder, shaking him awake. "Hey, if you don't get up you're gonna be late."

"Wha..."

"I even brought you coffee, aren't I nice?" the voice teased.

Dean blinked several times and peered up, seeing…- "Sam?" What was he doing wearing a suit? Sam grinned brightly and handed him a cup of coffee before standing and leaving the room. Confused as all hell, he looked around. He was in...a bedroom? It was a very _nice_ bedroom and he was currently in a king-size bed with some of the softest sheets he'd ever touched. Sounds filtered from down the hallway he could see through the open doorway, probably from the kitchen.

He crawled out of his bed and pulled on a pair of sweatpants. The floor shifted from carpeting in the bedroom to beautiful, light mahogany laminate. All along the walls, he noted pictures hanging there, of people he didn't know or remember and places he'd never seen. Even more confused, Dean blinked at the bright light of the room he'd come into. It was a huge enough room that doubled as a living room on one side, with a 65" LED tv mounted on a wall and what looked to be very expensive furniture. The rest of the room seemed taken up by an equally expensive mahogany table and chairs.

This dining room area seemed the buffer to the kitchen, where he spotted Sam. The cupboards and drawers were an off-white color, with a black-spotted marble finish and an island table in the center. Tucked away were all kinds of high-tech appliances, including a very large stainless-steel French-door refrigerator. Windows were along all the walls the blinds were open, letting in the bright sunlight to fill the room. He'd never been in a more beautiful area, all light and airy. It was the complete opposite of most of the crappy motel rooms they'd ever been in.

"Uh..."

Sam looked up at him when he tried to speak and failed to find anything of any substance to say. He wandered over to the window and realized that they weren't in an apartment. No, not by any means. They were in a huge house. Not like the house they grew up in that went 'up' with several stories. No, it seemed to sprawl endlessly along the ground, from what he could see. They were in what appeared to be a decent neighborhood, but it didn't seem like the gated type of community.

"Something wrong, Dean?"

Yeah, where did he start? Where was the dreams demigod? Where were they? Why was Sam in a suit? Where was he supposed to go that he was going to be late for?

"Dean?"

"Huh? Oh, well... Where are—"

The sound of a phone ringing cut him off and Sam grabbed his cell, but didn't answer it, just stared at the caller ID. He grimaced deeply, causing Dean's instincts to flare up. Was something bothering Sam? Was it something he could help with or stop? He'd had _enough_ of people pulling Sam's life in five million directions, tearing him apart inside.

"Sorry, I gotta run. We'll talk later." He grabbed a briefcase and was heading for the door before he paused. He turned a bit, looking highly hesitant, and said, "Um...if you've got time...you...might want to call your brother. He's...been calling a lot lately."

Wait, _brother_?! "O-Oi, Sam—"

"It doesn't bother me, really. It's just..." Sam shook his head as Dean almost jogged to him, trying not to spill the coffee over his hand. "Never mind, you know me."

"Wait, Sam—"

"I gotta go, Dean. I'll see you tonight, though."

Dean was about to argue further, to make him stay, but then something happened. Something he had not, in his wildest dreams, remotely expected. Sam reached up a hand, cupped his face, and kissed him fully on the mouth. Dean was so stunned that when a tongue asked for entry, he let it in. For some reason, it made his knees go a bit weak.

"See you," his brother whispered as they pulled apart. Dean's voice had left him, too stunned to reply, and the door closed in front of him.

What the hell?!

He shoved the coffee carelessly on the counter of the kitchen, not caring that it spilled over the edges, and started hunting for information. He needed to know what was going on. After all but tearing apart the bookshelves in a study he'd found, he managed to find a photo album. What he saw was even more confusing. It was his album, he noted, seeing baby pictures of things that had never happened. He saw Bobby standing next to Ellen, an arm wrapped around her shoulders, and Dean as he was when he was six, standing next to a young, four year old boy that he didn't recognize. What the hell?!

He thumbed through page after page. Halfway through, the pictures started to change until he saw what could only be university photos. Finally! There was Sam! They didn't really tell him anything though, just that they appeared to be close friends. Frustrated, he headed into the bedroom, looking for an address book, and paused when his eyes landed on a photo in a frame sitting on the bedside table.

Dean almost couldn't believe it. It was him and Sam...wearing tuxedos...and _kissing_. Upon closer inspection he noticed rings on their fingers and with a snap, he realized that there was indeed something heavy on his ring finger. It was a gold and silver band, exactly like in the picture. Sam and he...they weren't related? They were..._together_?

The phone rang, startling him in the silence, and he found his cellphone on the table as well. The caller-id stated 'Work'. Hell, he couldn't go to work today! He didn't even know where he worked or even what Sam did, but whatever they did, it enabled them to afford really expensive shit.

"Hello?"

"Dean? Where the hell are you, man? You're late!"

"Uh...I'm not...feelin' well today, so I'm gonna have to miss it..."

"Aww, what, Sam keep you up late?"

"Shut up!" Now his nudity this morning seemed to make sense...

"Don't worry, I'll cover for you. Shit, gotta go! Boss is here. See you!"

He thumbed through the names and numbers in his phone once he'd hung up, stopping when he spotted a familiar name. Jessica? Sam's girlfriend? He quickly set it to call and after three rings, a cheerful voice sounded. "Dean! Oh my god, it's been so long! You should keep up with your friends more often!"

Dean managed a shaky laugh and wandered out to the living room, pretending that he wasn't freaking out. Had the dreams demigod done something to him? "Oh, you know. Been busy."

"Yeah, I heard."

"Heard what?"

"About that building you designed. Everybody loves it!"

Building he'd designed? Was he an architect? "Oh, well...thanks."

"How's my childhood friend doin'? Did he win any big cases in court?"

"Sam?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, you know, a few here or there."

"You guys still keeping quiet about your relationship at his work? It's really sad, you know? I mean, I know why from a logic standpoint, he's working with police and all and they're really finicky with that kind of thing, but still! It's nothing to be ashamed of!"

He was feeling more and more at sea with this conversation despite having learned a helluva lot. "Yeah. Say, it's our, uh...anniversary coming up soon."

"It is, isn't it? Gonna have a party or something?"

"Nothing's been decided yet," he lied, gritting his teeth a bit. "It's just...I need your help."

"With what?"

Uh... "Well, you know Sam's a romantic..."

"Hell if I _don't_ know that."

"Well he's got our first meeting and all emblazoned in his mind and I'm a bit too embarrassed to admit I don't remember much at all. I was dead drunk," he ad libbed.

"You _were_ pretty drunk at the time..." she mused.

"So could you, you know, give me a refresher? Maybe it'll give me some ideas for our anniversary."

"Yeah, it's gonna be your, what, sixth year being together?"

Jesus, six years?! He hummed a sound of agreement.

It turned out that Jessica was a bottomless _well_ of information and she never once asked any questions why he was asking. He'd learned that they'd met in college in a party, and he'd been drunk as hell, stumbling into a spin the bottle game. Sam's turn had landed on him even though he wasn't part of it and had, in his drunkenness, kissed him. After that, he'd passed out and Sam had taken him back to the dorms. They'd become friends are that, but it wasn't until six months later when Sam had asked him out on a date in the middle of lunch that they'd become an item. A hot ticket item to hear it told.

He'd also heard, reading between the lines, that his little brother Adam absolutely hated Sam and their relationship, blaming him for leading Dean 'down the wrong path'. The more he listened, the more he didn't like Adam at all. Who the hell was this guy to criticize or yell at Sam?! Adam… Why was that name so familiar…?

By the time four o'clock rolled around, he felt as if he'd at least gotten a handle on what was going on. However, he couldn't find a way _out_ of this dream. It had to be a dream, what else could it be? A dream that was created by that damn demigod. He really hoped that Sam hurried on sealing it again and when he did, he'd be free.

Sam was talking on his phone when he opened the door and he had that look that said he was distressed about something. "No, but— Yeah, but Dean is happy— I'm not—" He pulled the phone away from his ear, looking at it. Apparently someone had hung up on him.

"Sam?" he said, poking his head out of the kitchen.

Sam looked up with a sigh, dropping his briefcase on the table and yanking off his shoes. "Dean. What...are you doing? I thought it was my turn to cook tonight."

Dean looked down at the food he'd made. It wasn't anything fancy, at all, and he hadn't realized they'd had schedules. Shit. "Well, you know..."

But the smile that Sam gave him somehow seemed to make it all worth it. That smile... He hadn't seen it for _so_ long. "I'm gonna hit the shower and change, then we can eat, okay?"

He nodded, barely managing to keep himself from jumping a bit as his brother placed a kiss on the side of his temple and headed back down the hallway to the bedroom. Dean waited a minute before coming around and grabbing Sam's phone, looking at who called last. His mood turned icy when he noticed the name. That supposed 'brother' of his. He didn't care what anyone said, Sam was his brother and his whole damn world at this point. Who the hell was this guy to get in the way of that?

It didn't matter that in this odd 'reality', they were actually lovers and not brothers. His deep feelings hadn't changed one bit and that protectiveness welled in his chest. He reached out and grabbed the landline, dialing the number as he heard the shower start running.

"Dean? Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me," he replied, affecting a pleasant tone that he didn't feel in the least.

"Great! I've been calling you, but you haven't gotten back. You've probably been so busy, being a famous architect. I was worried though, so that meant I had to call Sam." There was an intense sound of hatred when he said his brother's name.

"Yeah, you see, that's what I wanted to talk to you about," Dean told him, sounding at ease as the shower shut off and Sam wandered out in a shirt and loose cotton pants.

There was a suspiciously long pause on the other end of the phone. "What about?"

"What did you talk to him about just now?"

"Oh, that. I just told him that I know that he's hiding your relationship at his work and that it'd be really bad if it got out that he seduced someone's brother."

Dean couldn't stop the fake smile he had, the one he always wore just a second before he was about to hit someone that really pissed him off. Sam noted it and looked a tad concerned. "See, Adam," And here Sam's eyes really widened, "here's the thing. I don't like you calling Sam and telling him shit like that."

"Dean... but I never said I'd do it!"

"I don't care." Here his voice became hard and immobile, harsh and almost cruel. "Don't you dare say a damn thing, to anyone. And don't you fucking call Sam again unless it's to apologize for the things you've said to him and about him. Because do you know? He's the most important person in the world to me and if you want to have any kind of 'relationship' with me, it's gonna have him in it and you've got to accept that. If you don't, well...then I assume this means you don't want to have anything to do with me."

"Dean!"

"I mean it! You don't fucking mess with Sam again. As of right this minute, you're out of my life!" Without waiting for a reply, he hung up and tossed the phone on the counter.

"Dean..."

He looked up at the sound of Sam's stunned voice. His eyes widened when he realized that he looked as if he was about to cry and he hurried over. Not good. Not good at all. He'd never been able to handle it when they were kids and Sam would start crying. "Sam? What is it?"

"I just... I've never heard you sound so harsh to Adam...ever."

He blinked. "What?"

"He's always meant so much to you and I thought... I told myself that it was okay that I was second, you know? That Adam meant more to you than I did. I couldn't, and didn't, want to come between you like that."

"He doesn't mean more to me than you. Listen to me, Sam," he said truthfully, "there is no one in this world that I love more than you."

It was the simple and unfettered truth. Dean loved Sam way too much to ever let him go. He was his world, the one he'd sold his soul to save. He'd always come back for him and Achilles heel or not, that wouldn't ever change. Saying so didn't bother him at all because maybe his Sam needed to hear it just a little more after all that had happened and how he'd been so harshly and cruelly tricked.

What Dean didn't take into account was the changes from reality. Sam reached out, almost too quickly, and he found himself being pulled into a tight hug, a tongue sliding into his mouth. Shit! He'd rather hoped to avoid any more of that until he was free, but with the passionate and almost wild way he was being kissed told him that there was no getting out of it.

It took a very short amount of time, much to his surprise, that he found himself kissing back. There was something addictive about those lips, those strong arms going around his back. He didn't even notice when Sam had picked him up and carried him all the way back to their bedroom, not breaking a mind-blowing kiss as he did so.

It was only when he was set down, Sam shifting overtop him, that Dean was getting the idea. "Sam! Ho—"

"We'll reheat dinner later," his brother whispered, leaving nips and bites along his neck as he divested Dean of his clothes like lightning. "I can't wait, not after hearing that."

"W-What?"

Those eyes were bright with happiness. "I just...never thought I'd hear something like that. I never knew you loved me that much. I always thought Adam was more important."

"Hell no! No one's more important than you!"

"I love you too much to put into words right now," Sam murmured in his ear and Dean didn't realize until too late that Sam's nimble fingers had pulled off his pants and gone straight to his unwanted erection. Why the bloody hell was he aroused?! He gasped loudly when large fingers started to stroke him and those kisses began to trail down his chest. More nips and bites and it was really, really hard to do something other than just writhe on the bed. He reached up and grabbed his brother's shoulders, but was stopped. "Please, just let me pamper you tonight. I want you to just lay there and feel."

"H-Hey..."

But Sam wasn't paying him any attention. He was making his way lower and lower. Dean could only watch half in shock as his brother, no matter what anyone said, had dipped his head between his legs and began to suck. Sure, other girls had done it to him, but somehow it meant nothing in comparison to _Sam_ doing it to him. He let out a shout, fingers diving into longer hair. All higher thoughts had fled and he just reveled in the feelings that expert tongue was invoking. He was sufficiently distracted that he didn't realize what was going to happen until he felt something cold and wet slide between his legs.

Oh hell! "Sam!"

"Shhh," Sam murmured as he leaned up, giving him a besotted smile. "I love you, Dean. I love you." Just as he said that, he _pressed_ on something with two fingers and Dean's spine almost bowed in pleasure.

"Oh _fuck_!" Shit, what the hell was that?!

Sam abused that spot endlessly. Between that and his tongue, it didn't take long for Dean to reach his peak. "So thick," Sam teased lightly. "Am I not satisfying you every night? I'll have to be more...vigorous."

"V-Vigorous?" he replied, a little nervous. "Uh, no...I'm uh...good." Was there a way he could broach the subject of maybe 'returning the favor' without ending up going all the way?

"No, I don't think you are," Sam replied and how the _hell_ had that man gotten so damn sexy and smooth? His voice was chocolate, like silk running all along his skin and distracting him. A deep kiss muffled his sounds as Sam eased himself deep within his body. Dean let out a shout, the sensation something he had never, ever felt before. Sam didn't wait and instead started to thrust with hopeless abandon.

It was probably the _hottest_ thing he'd ever felt. Even as Dean clutched onto Sam's shoulders and held on, he realized that never once had he had any kind of sex that was as powerful as this. He was drowning in the pleasure and pure joy. Something primal had awakened in him, as if he were some kind of wolf that had found his mate for life. He shouted and his hips thrust into the movements, aroused beyond belief.

"It's like...our first time..." Sam grunted in his ear.

"Fuck!" It was the only word that Dean could utter, voice filled with awe. He felt complete, in all senses of the word. Safe, secure, loved. Was this why the demigod of dreams was so powerful? Was this world, somehow, constructed by the demigod, based all around a deep seated feeling in his heart? It had to be, because he didn't view Sam as anyone different. Even if in this world they weren't brothers, Dean still viewed him as such. Did that mean...that he wanted Sam in bed _regardless_? Was he really incestuous like that?

It didn't matter, he decided, as they both shouted out their orgasms. No, his feelings hadn't changed at all. The Sam currently lying bonelessly on top of him was the same as the one he'd left, just a little less emotionally scarred.

"Don't you even think about sleeping."

"...What?"

Sam grinned at him in a wolfish manner and his hands gripped Dean's hips. "I'll be ready again soon. I'm going to make love to you _all damn night long_."

The threat proved true. Dean was completely worn out by the time he was allowed to collapse into sleep and Sam whispered gleefully in his ear about how it was the weekend now when he snuggled up to his bare back. He was lucky if he managed to get anything done and it was this way for the entire weekend. It was as if they were newlyweds or something. Dean was in the middle of getting molested for the millionth time that day, a hand down the back of his pants and a tongue deep in his throat when it happened.

"—Dean!"

His eyes snapped open at the sound of Sam's voice. His face was close, very close, and he couldn't help it. "Gah!" He threw himself backward, falling off the edge of the twin bed and onto the floor. Wildly he looked around, taking in the details of the dark motel room.

"Dean?"

"Sam...?"

Sam sighed in relief. "You okay?"

"Shit, what happened?"

His brother frowned. "The demigod grabbed you when you went to that warehouse. I've been looking for you for the past three days. Bobby and I got him imprisoned again and I've been waiting for you to wake up. It's been about...four hours since then." Dean sat up, rubbing his throbbing head. "Bobby said that you've probably been asleep since he grabbed you and put you in a dream he constructed, supposedly based from some kind of feeling from your subconscious or something. Just that he bases it off something you want really badly, whether you know it or not."

"...Sounds about right," he muttered. He'd wanted Sam _really_ badly and just never recognized it? Was that what he was saying? Hell no, it couldn't be. Denial reared its head, blocking off the uncomfortable thoughts. Bobby wasn't right all the time. He couldn't be.

"So?"

"So what?"

"What was it? What did you dream?"

Hell no was he telling Sam, or anyone else for that matter! "Don't remember," he lied.

"You're lying." When Dean frowned, Sam glared a bit at him. "You think I can't tell when you're lying?"

"It's no big deal. I'm out now, that's all that matters."

"...Fine, I'll let it go for now, but only because we need to go. With everything that I had to do, we made a big scene." Sam stood from his chair and patted Dean on the back as he passed to pack up their stuff.

He tried not to wince, he really did, but it was impossible. Thanks to that damn dream, which was fake, it had to be, it was not real, he was so highly sensitized to Sam's touch, to his very presence. All he could think about was how those fingers had buried themselves in his body, how those kisses were filled with barely restrained passion. The house they'd shared, lived in together. It was all in the forefront of his mind, unable to forget.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, I'm comin'," he muttered, getting off the floor. Shit, what was he supposed to do now?


	2. Chapter 2

(I haven't actually seen the show in a long while, I stopped watching after season 7, so I'm going to try to find time to watch a few of the early episodes to, hopefully, make sure I've got the characters right. Also, I know less than zero about how cars work, so forgive me if I'm a bit vague on details and what they're doing.)

Sam glanced at Dean out of the corner of his eye. His hands were tense on the steering wheel and he stared right ahead with an intensity that didn't seem to be needed. He wished he knew what was going on in his head, but whenever he broached the subject of the dream's demon, Dean grew defensive and withdrawn. What had he seen? Was it a family, maybe? No, that didn't seem like something his brother would want…and yet he couldn't dismiss it entirely because hadn't it happened once before? Dean's fantasy world a few years ago with the jin had been about that.

"Dude, stop staring at me."

He blinked. "What?"

"I can feel you _thinking_ at me. Stop it."

"_Thinking_ at you?" He couldn't help but laugh and there was a faint smile Dean threw his way. "What exactly does that even mean?"

"Sam, you're the king of brooding."

"What am I brooding about then?"

"About two days ago, aren't you? With that dream demon."

"Oh, right. Then why don't you tell me what happened so I can stop then."

Dean threw him a look that said 'ha, right, I know what you're doing'. "Now, are you going to tell me what you found or not?"

He closed the journal on his lap; they'd both gone through it so many times that he would have thought they'd memorized it by now, but there was always something more to read. The book was becoming too well-worn, could possibly fall apart in the next year. "Sounds like it could be a rusalka. It's a Russian spirit, usually of someone who died violently like women who committed suicide because of a lover betrayed them."

"Like the Woman in White?"

Sam tilted his head. "Similar, yes, but rusalki don't have to always be that. Could be from unmarried women who were pregnant and died, or even, at least according to the journal, unbaptized children. They all haunt water, though, and are never really far from it."

"Great. Any hints on getting rid of one?"

"We've got to know what we're dealing with first, Dean. There's all manner of suggestions, but it depends on if it's a woman or a child. How far away are we?"

"About a hundred miles."

"Wake me up when we're close then." Sam shifted, slumping in the seat and reclining it just a bit. As he closed his eyes, he saw Dean look over to him, eyes roving up from his head to his feet, before going back to the road. He really didn't like not knowing that had happened to Dean; after Ruby, after Dean had just barely stopped him from unleashing the apocalypse, Sam had realized just how close he'd come to destroying their relationship entirely. He'd pushed Dean away so much that no one would have faulted his brother for giving up on him, on them…but he hadn't. Dean was stubborn like that.

As he felt sleep slowly start to grip him, he dreamed. It had been a long time since he'd dreamed of Jessica, even though she was always there in the back of his mind, a precious memory of a person that had made such an impact on his life. He could feel her touch singing along his nerve endings as he remembered that drunken night three weeks into their relationship. She hadn't known the reason he'd gotten drunk, hadn't heard the argument he'd had with his brother over the phone, the last time he'd spoken with Dean before Dean had come to see him two years later.

His eyes flickered beneath his lids as he dreamed, remembered, the most passionate time he'd ever been with anyone, how he'd held her tight as if he feared if he let go she might disappear. She'd been as wasted as he was, if not moreso. Though he would never admit it, he was actually grateful because it kept her from remembering the name he'd shouted as he thrust into her form over him.

"_Dean!"_

She didn't remember, had passed out almost as soon as she'd reached her climax…but Sam did. It had taken a few weeks to get snatches of that night in any clarity and when he did, he'd been horrified. His brother's name had been on his lips as he'd orgasmed. Not only had it felt like a betrayal to Jessica, but also to Dean himself. He'd tormented himself for months over it before he'd forced himself to sit down and really think about it. If there were two people he loved in the world beyond anything, it was Jessica and Dean. They were separate, not interchangeable, and he loved both to his very core romantically.

Once he had acknowledged that he loved Dean regardless, that he had an attraction to his elder brother, it had been surprisingly easy to set it aside. Jessica had been there, filling his life with light and fun and her smiles. Then that light had disappeared with her death and he swore that his heart would grow withered and black.

Maybe it would have if it wasn't for Dean. Those feelings, his relationship with his brother that he had packaged so neatly in a box and set aside protectively in his mind and soul, had become a balm. It took root nearby the now withered tree Jessica's death had left and had grown stronger and stronger. When Ruby had interfered, some of the branches had gotten cut and scars on the trunk were left behind…but it was still there and now it was healing. His love for his brother, both as brothers and as a partner, had only grown and he had memorized the images that he'd see occasionally of his brother in various states of dress, because there was no way anything could come—

A hand shook his shoulder, jerking him awake. "What?" he muttered sleepily, fixing his seat and sitting up. He glanced around, but they were still driving. "Why'd you wake me?"

Dean looked over at his grousing. "Thought I should do that before you got really into it."

Just as he was about to demand what Dean was talking about, he shifted and felt it. His jeans were tight and now he realized that he had an aching erection. Sam groaned in embarrassment and rubbed his face with his hands. This was not what he needed when he was trapped in the car with Dean and his imagination running wild, of just wanting Dean to pull over so bad and crawl into lap, and let Sam love him, all of him, until he was raw—

"Need me to pull over?"

The more primitive side of his brain screamed _yes_ and it didn't help the thoughts whirling around in his mind, but the rest of his higher brain functions attempted to tamp down on it, knowing that that was not what Dean was implying. "No, I'm good."

"Dude, you're not jacking off in my car."

"No, I'm not!" he spat back, crossing his leg over the other so he could keep his erection from Dean's sight. He was not going to have his brother pull over to deal with this; in fact, he wasn't going to deal with it at all. He combed through his memory to think the least arousing things he'd ever seen, hoping that would deal with it.

"Sam—"

"Just drive, Dean."

"Man, you get tetchy when you're sexually frustrated."

He had _no_ idea, Sam thought, glaring at Dean and trying not to imagine the man nude and riding his lap.

-0-

"I can't believe this! This is the last time I let you drive!"

"Me?!" Sam glared at him from the passenger seat, soaked to the bone and shifting uncomfortably in his wet clothes and wet seat.

"_Yes_. You drove my fucking car into the lake! Everything in the trunk is soaked, all our clothes are soaked, we're lucky the damn engine even turned over! God knows how long we'll be stuck at Bobby's while I figure out what this _gurgling_ noise is!"

Sam's look was pure anger and frustration. "What did you want me to do, let her _drown you_?!"

"I didn't want you _to drive my car into the lake_!"

"The car is not as important as you! We can replace a car!"

Dean drew back as if slapped. "Don't you ever say that again! Don't listen to him," he cooed at the car, "you're irreplaceable."

In truth, he was deliberately keeping Sam riled up and arguing with him so he didn't have to actually _look_ at his brother in his wet clothes. It had been difficult enough yesterday morning on the drive when his brother had been dreaming 'happy things', because it reminded him of his own hallucination of the dream demon. And that was _all _it was, a hallucination.

God, Sam looked good in those wet jeans.

He hit the wheel of the car hard, the brief flare of pain in his hand centering his thoughts for a minute. This was _not_ how it was supposed to be! That hallucination was not supposed to leave any lasting effects and here he was, with a lasting effect. He couldn't get it out of his head, how _right_ and _perfect_ it had felt. Like what they had done in that dream had just been a natural extension of their relationship. There had been nothing wrong about how it had felt, even though he'd always kept in the forefront of his mind that Sam was his brother.

How the hell was he supposed to hide that from Sam? His brother was right, he could always tell when he was lying or what he was feeling most of the time. The last thing he wanted to do was have him find out about these…these…hallucinations. It wasn't that he had anything against gay couples or people, but it wasn't him and it wasn't with his _brother_. It wasn't as if children would come into the mix, but—

"Now who's brooding?"

He blinked, drawn out of his thoughts and glanced over at Sam, who was still looking pissed about something. Dean almost shuddered at the idle thought that crossed his mind about wanting to kiss that frown away. No, he'd have to talk to Bobby about this…away from Sam. He had to know if there was some lingering effects from his captivity with the dream demon, like a poison left behind. Books could be wrong; it couldn't be that this was something he _wanted_.

"Shut up," he responded, his bad mood making him take it out on Sam.

This was all his fault.

The drive to Bobby's was tense and silent and the engine stalled twice on him. By that time the seats and their clothes had dried to some extent, but the carpeting on the floor of the car was still squishy. As he stormed out of the car, Bobby stepped out of the house, wiping his hands on a rag. "Didn't expect to see you boys."

"Tell me you've got a beer, Bobby."

"In the fridge."

Dean stalked past his father-figure and into the kitchen. It was sheer habit that made him grab two, one for himself and his brother. He took a deep breath, sliding off his leather jacket and dropped it on the back of a chair. He could do this. He just had to find Bobby alone for a bit, without Sam there, and they could fix whatever the problem was with him.

When he retraced his steps to the porch, he paused to watch the two most important people in his life. They were all but whispering, deep in conversation, and there was a complicated look on Sam's face. As he walked closer, he heard the tail end of whatever his brother was saying. "—terrified that I'd—we'd—lose him."

As soon as they noticed him, the conversation stopped and he figured that he wasn't supposed to have heard anything, so he pretended he didn't. He wasn't sure _why _he wasn't allowed to know; Sam was a worrier and he knew that. He knew his brother was worried about him, so why was this a need for a clandestine meeting? He shoved the beer into Sam's hand and said, "I need to work on the engine, Bobby. Got the parts for me around here somewhere?"

"Since when do I not? You're always fixing it."

"Good. Sam." He smirked at his brother, who eyed him warily, "Since it was _your_ fault that my car is now not working, _you_ get to do the laundry. Go dry our clothes."

"What?! I saved your life—"

"And now you can do the laundry." He made a shooing motion with his hand and grinned in amusement at the annoyed expression his brother's face. He tried not to ogle Sam's ass when he opened the back seat of the car and bent down to grab their bags.

Dean left the doors open to help the carpet dry and popped both the hood and the trunk in the contemplative silence left in his brother's wake. "Would you look at this…" he muttered in frustration, gesturing at the engine.

Bobby wandered over, glanced at it, and then asked as bluntly as he was known to be, "So what's the problem?"

"Well, as you can see—"

"Not the car, Dean."

Since when could he ever hide anything from Bobby? Dean sighed and he took his beer, wandering away and feeling the older man follow him, still in that worn but trademark hat of his. As they headed deeper into the junkyard, he felt safe enough away from Sam that he could talk about it. He found a stool next to a wooden table that had seen much better days and dropped down on it. "Do those dream demons we hunted a few days ago leave any after effects?"

Bobby blinked. "What? No, not that it mentioned. Why? Having problems?"

"Hallucinations, actually."

The confused look turned serious. "Hallucinations of what? How bad are they?"

God, he really didn't want to do this. "Look, you have to swear not to tell Sam about this. We can fix the problems ourselves, without him knowing."

"Dean."

He nudged his booted foot against the ground and gritted his teeth. "They're about Sam. Things I _shouldn't_ be thinking about because he's my _brother_."

If the emphasis clicked in, Bobby didn't show it. "What, like killing him? Hurting him?"

"More like fucking him."

The silence was heavy between them and Dean couldn't meet the man's eyes. He waited for the condemnation, for the 'disgusting' comments, but instead, Bobby simply asked, "Dean, what did you see when the demon had you?"

"You remember the jin, right? It was kind of like that. I was in another life or something, but this time, Sam and I weren't brothers. Adam was my brother and I'd actually _married_ Sam." His fingers gripped the bottle tightly, but he knew he had to finish. Who knew if some detail that he left out could actually be significant, a clue to removing whatever was on him. "You guys didn't trap him quick enough before…before…"

"Before you had sex with Sam in this dream."

"Yeah."

Bobby finally came closer, sitting on a stool himself on the opposite side of the table. "Who's Adam?"

He blinked at the seemingly random question before he realized neither had ever told Bobby about him. "He was…our half-brother. Dad's other son. He kept him out of this business. He was killed by some ghouls that were taking revenge for their parents that Dad took out."

There was a moment of surprisingly companionable silence between them. Dean finished his beer and found himself playing with the bottle in his hand. He let his mentor think, comb through the library in his head.

"What makes you think you've got a problem now?" the man finally asked.

"Because I'm still having hallucinations, Bobby. I look over at Sam, and I…"

"You sure it's not just your superimposing the dream? That you're not just remembering it?"

"No, this is different." This was the most difficult thing in his life, but Bobby was calm, accepting, and just waiting for him to continue. There was no judgment, no condemnation. "I…look at Sam, and I think of…_things_. Things I want to _do_, here and now. It's not just because of the dream. What's worse is that I don't feel…_comfortable_ anymore without it."

"Comfortable?"

"Like there's something missing. In that dream, when we…it felt good." At Bobby's eyebrow, he almost blushed. "Not just the sex part, but the fact that we were…doing it. It was like I'd been waiting, fucking waiting, for this to happen for a long time. And now it won't leave me alone! Bobby, there's got to be something, a poison or a spell leftover from this because why would it still continue to…to…"

"Cause 'hallucinations'? Which, by the way, what you're describing isn't really a hallucination, but let's head on past that…"

Dean nodded, feeling a surprising bit better at having said it all out loud. At least now they could work on fixing it—

"Hate to break it to you, Dean, but there's no spell on you and it's not a poison. No lore anywhere ever mentioned it. What you saw in that dream was because of the demon; everything after when you woke up is all _you_. Dream demon's can be really nasty because of this. They take whatever is deepest in your heart, that you want, and drag it right up front where you can't ignore it. It's not just about _love_; sometimes people don't realize just how much they _hate_ someone and end up killing them over it. All the demon does is show you what's in there, but because it's buried so deep you might not even know about it, once it's out in the open, once it's clear, it's almost impossible to ignore."

"It can't be, Bobby!" he spat, standing up and pacing. That was not what he wanted to hear! "It can't be that way!"

"Why not?"

"We're _brothers_! Biological brothers! It's incest!"

Bobby leaned forward, bracing his arms against the table. "Look, Dean. I'm not trying to say that what you said isn't true; I'm not going to just throw out a revelation that you aren't related and all your worries are for nothing. But you've got to realize that as hunters, we don't get many chances. Very few of us are ever happy, or find someone in life that we can be with. Even fewer ever work with anyone. You and Sam are different because you have each other and that's more rare than anything I've ever seen. Most hunters are bitter, unhappy, and alone, so I've always believed that if a hunter can find happiness with someone, particularly if they're also another hunter, they should take that chance because it doesn't come around that often. Yes, you're brothers, but there's no worry about kids…and Sam makes you happy, doesn't he?"

What Bobby said did make some sense to Dean, because he had seen the same thing about most of the other hunters he'd come across. Hell, he remembered saying something remarkably similar once, but it was different somehow when it was himself. "You're actually telling me you'd be okay with the two of us having sex."

"No, I'm telling you that I'd be okay with you two having a _relationship_. Don't start it just to 'help each other out', but because you actually want to take what relationship you have to the next level."

Dean looked at the empty bottle in his hand and threw it in the nearby trash can. "Doesn't matter anyway, I guess."

"Why?"

"Why? Bobby, it's Sam. If you're right, then this means I've wanted this, whatever this is, for a long time, but Sam didn't. He won't think of me like that. He can't."

"Why not?"

"I know what you're trying to do, Bobby, and it's not gonna work. I'm not gonna tell him."

"Tell me what?"

Shit.


	3. Chapter 3

"Nothing."

"Tell me what?" Sam asked again, glancing between the two men. Dean was looking highly uncomfortable and Bobby seemed…Bobby. He was watching both brothers with a calculated look in his eye and Sam would have given almost anything to know what was going on in his head. What did he know that Sam didn't?

"Dean's got something to say to you, but let him do it in his own time, Sam."

Dean glared at Bobby, giving a look that clearly screamed 'traitor'. "Okay…" he said, feeling worry pool in his gut. What did Dean need to tell him? Was it something to do with that demon? "Is it something to do with that demon we fought?"

"In his own time, Sam."

Something tipped Sam off about Bobby's tone and he nodded, immediately dropping it. Whatever it was, Bobby seemed to know and was telling him to back off. Why he seemed to be under the assumption that Dean would tell him _anything_ now when he never had before, at least of his own free will, remained a mystery.

"Fine. Everything's washing except for what we're wearing." He shifted, wishing he'd threw what he was wearing in with the rest, naked or not, because the stiff clothing was uncomfortable as all hell. "How's the car?"

"A mess. It'll be days before I get it fixed."

"Great," he grumbled.

"You guys are welcome to use the spare room in the house."

He gave Bobby a sharp look at the seemingly innocent comment. Dean nodded. "I'm gonna go grab another beer and then get to work."

Sam waited until his brother was out of earshot. "Use the spare room?"

"What? I thought I was being hospitable."

"You _know_ why that's not a good idea. I'm having…a really hard time controlling myself right now. The idiot almost got himself killed! I just want grab him and not let him go, and if I do, there's no stopping what else I might do."

Sam had broken down three years ago when Dean had been out with a girl and had admitted to his father-figure that he had had feelings for his brother for years. He had been convinced that Bobby would demand he leave the house, remove himself from Dean, and never speak to him again…but instead, he'd become his quiet confidant, someone that he knew he could talk to when it became too much to keep silent.

"You'll just have to deal with it, Sam. The car is out of commission, and neither one of you really wants to rent a motel room just to come back every morning. Besides, you share rooms all the time."

"That's different, Bobby!" he spat, wondering why the man that was so understanding before was so heartless now. "We always get two beds! You've only got one and someone can't even sleep on the floor because you've got piles of books everywhere!"

"And I'll thank you to not move them, they're in a certain order."

He knew he wasn't going to get anywhere at seeing the stubborn look in the man's eyes. He wouldn't allow Sam or Dean to move the books and there was only one room. Well, if it became too difficult, he could always sleep on the sofa. Sam sighed and nodded. "Fine. Dean won't like it," he warned.

"Dean'll survive."

"Yeah, but you don't have to live with him complain about it."

Bobby just laughed and gave him a smile that seemed to be more like a smirk than anything. "You love it, and you know it."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, but couldn't deny it.

-0-

It took three days for Dean to get the car in the shape he wanted. Sam had offered to help and sometimes Dean actually let him, but most of the time he just watched and threw in unwelcome commentary just to annoy his brother. Not surprisingly, he had ended up sleeping on the sofa, giving Dean the excuse that he couldn't sleep because the man was always rolling around and taking up all the space.

"So you find us a job?" he asked as they headed down a lonely stretch of road and seeing no one in front of behind. He fingered the steering wheel, glancing at Dean next to him, who had his nose in a newspaper.

"Not yet. Mostly just people killing people. Makes you wonder how, with everything out there, the human race is still alive."

Sam grinned a bit. "Maybe."

"What, no speech about the good nature of humans shining through?"

He rolled his eyes. "No," was all he said.

Dean was watching him before he went back to his newspaper. "So."

"So what?"

"I guess I've got to tell you something."

His heart started to pound in concern. Sam had been itching to know what was going on since Bobby had told him that Dean wanted to say something, but he had kept silent like his friend had told him to. That didn't mean he hadn't considered strapping his brother to a chair and making him tell… "Yeah?"

There was a moment of silence and then Dean blurted, almost as if he decided to do it like ripping off a bandaid, "In the dream demon's spell, I dreamed we weren't brothers but lovers, we had sex, and since I woke up, I've still got the urges."

Sam felt his brain seize up and he slammed on the breaks hard. The wheels stopped, the car sliding with a screech over the asphalt, and he turned the wheel enough that they ended up in the dirt next to the road. He heard Dean curse, see him brace his hands on the car to keep himself steady. "_What?!_" he demanded, sure he hadn't heard that right. Absolutely sure. He had fallen asleep at the wheel, hadn't he?

"You heard me. I'm not saying it again." Dean wasn't looking at him, instead he slumped a little in his seat. "I tried to ignore it. I even thought it was a side effect of what the demon had done, but Bobby says no. Apparently I've wanted this for a long time and I just never noticed."

He decided, in that moment, that if this was a dream, he didn't _care_. "Dean," he growled. His brother glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, in time to see Sam reach forward, fist his hands in that leather jacket and pull him forward into a kiss. Though he tried to keep it in check, Sam failed. It was fierce, raw, passionate and made up of desperation. For years he'd dreamed of this moment, wondered how his brother would taste, and oh, Dean tasted _good_.

One hand gripped his brother's strong thigh and he yanked, pulling him over until he was forced to straddle Sam's hips without breaking the kiss. In the movement, Dean accidentally hit the horn, but no one was there to hear the loud sound. It was enough, though, to let Sam know that this _wasn't_ a dream. Rallying some control, he gentled the harsh kiss so he didn't bruise Dean's lips, injecting love into his actions and not just lust.

Dean was the one that broke it first, letting out a soft gasp as he breathed. "Sam—"

"I've waited for a long time for that," he muttered, hands reaching out and running along his brother's chest through his shirt. "I love you, Dean."

There was a moment of silence as they eyed each other across the minimal space between them. Sam's hands slid about to Dean's rear, squeezing just a little and enjoying the grunt he was trying not to let out. He pulled his hips closer, letting his brother feel his arousal through their jeans and Dean's hand reached out, bracing against the seat next to Sam's head. A silent conversation was going on between them and he knew when his brother leaned in to voraciously kiss him, that he had agreed, both to the relationship and what Sam wanted.

Because Sam wanted to hold Dean, wanted to hold him so badly that it felt like a core part of his being. Desperately they kissed and then he watched as his brother leaned back only to pull his leather jacket off quickly, throwing it on the seat next to him. Sam fumbled, reaching down next to the seat, and releasing the catch, allowing the back of it to fall back until he was almost lying down. It just made what they were going to do easier, and it allowed Dean to have control the first time.

"Can't believe we're doing this in my car," Dean muttered as he pulled off his shirt and then began to tug at Sam's.

"This kind of thing is usually done at home, and this car is our home. How's that weird?" Sam replied as his shirt and jacket were tossed…somewhere. He wasn't sure if it was in the backseat or the front, but the cold leather against his heated skin felt so good he moaned just a little. He wasn't sure he was willing to tell Dean that one of his fantasies had been doing this to his brother in his precious car. Dean might actually attempt to kill him for that.

He yanked his brother down, kissing him again fiercely and moaning through their pressed lips when he felt Dean rocking their hips together. Oh _hell_, Dean knew how to move. It was a tormenting tease, dragging his hips slowly, but with a firm press with every motion of their hips and it wouldn't take long to drive Sam insane doing that.

"Dean," he moaned, finally pressing his brother back a bit to get his attention. More of that and he'd release in his pants, which was not what he had planned. If it was going to be anywhere, it would be inside his partner. "Glove compartment."

"What's in there you want?" Dean muttered, sounding irritated, but he did it anyway. He fumbled, but finally got to the tap and opened it, hunting around the guns. His fingers closed on a small tube and he pulled it out before he gave Sam an indignant look. "You kept _lube_ in my glove compartment?!"

"Shut up. It's come in handy now, or do you not want me to fuck you until you scream?"

"Dude, I don't scream."

"You will when I'm through."

"So you think you're so good at it, do you?"

Sam gave a feral smile. "Get your pants off and I'll show you."

He watched a shiver go down Dean's spine and the saw the hesitation in his eyes. Sam waited and though it would kill him to, if Dean backed off or refused, he'd let him. He wouldn't force anything. Finally Dean handed him the lube and then went to his pants. The amazing contortions that his brother had to go through to get them off while not slamming his head against the roof of the car was both amusing and erotic and by the time he was naked over Sam, he was ready to say hell with the day and do nothing but fuck him.

Sam eased some lube onto his fingers and reached around, softly and gently rubbing at Dean's entrance, taking care to not make any sudden moves. He made sure that Dean knew what he was doing at all times, giving him time to protest, as he pushed one finger inside. He paused as he felt his brother's body clench up at the invasion, but knew better than to tell Dean what he already knew: he had to relax.

"Not a word," his partner hissed.

"Like I'm ever going to tell anyone that you're on the bottom." He gave an indulgent, loving smile. "Besides, it's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Shut up." Just the simple act of talking seemed to calm Dean down and he felt those muscles lose some of their tension and he began to explore, looking for his brother's prostate.

Sam had never actually had sex with a man before, mostly because the only male he'd ever been attracted to had been Dean, but he had learned long ago how this worked. Dean probably only became aware of it after his time trapped by the dream demon, but at least Sam didn't have to _explain_ anything because that would be just too embarrassing. There were limits even for him.

He felt a great sense of relief when Dean opened his button and fly, and he sighed in longing before using his other hand to pull his brother down for a softer, more loving kiss. He used the motion as a light distraction, something to allow Dean to get lost in, as he pushed his second finger. This would be a bit uncomfortable, he knew, as he gently began to widen him.

"Fuck," Dean muttered, breaking the kiss and burying his face in Sam's shoulder. His hands, still on his jeans, paused and there was the faintest tremor through him. "This…didn't feel like in the dream."

"That's because it was a dream," he muttered. "This is your actual first time. It's going to be different."

Before the rebellious comment from Dean could be said, he'd finally found his prostate and he watched in delight as his brother let out a soft cry, arching just a little into the sensations. Really, Dean couldn't have been sexier if he'd _tried_, and it took all of Sam's restraint not to just say 'screw it' and thrust inside right then. As he slipped a third finger in, Dean's shaking hands began to tug his jeans down a bit and he helped by lifting his hips to get them down to his knees. It caused their erections to brush together and they both let out a simultaneous moan.

"Dean," he growled.

"Do it," was the panted reply.

"Sure?"

"Fuck, Sam, yes! I said yes already!"

He removed his fingers and gripped those hips, helping his brother to ease down. At first he thought he wouldn't fit regardless, but Dean kept moving down and his head finally broke that tight ring of muscle. Sam gasped, throwing his head back against the leather seats. He'd never been in anyone that was so tight before and it took all his control to not just pull Dean down the rest of the way in one quick tug. Instead, he let his brother go at his own pace before he was finally settled, not moving.

"Shit, it didn't hurt like this in the dream."

"First…time…remember?"

"Fuck you, Sam!"

Sam opened his eyes and grinned wolfishly. "No, currently fucking _you_, Dean. And god, it's like a religious experience."

"Shut up. You want Castiel showing up all of a sudden?"

"Castiel can show up all he likes, I'll just go on fucking you. He can have a free show."

"Sam…"

"Not kidding, Dean. I love you, and I don't give a fuck what anyone says."

"Selfish brat."

"You were the one that made me like this. You spoiled me rotten."

"So what, you think that means I have to give you everything you want?"

"You are now," he murmured in a purr. "I want you and you're giving me what I want, right? Right now, I want you to move."

Dean glared at him and lifted his hips. Sam worried for a minute that he had pissed his brother off, but he quickly came back down. An unwilling gasp was wrenched from his lips and a grunted moan from Dean shivered down his spine. "Don't…mess up…my car," his brother growled.

"Don't plan to. Plan to get off right inside you," he panted, lifting his hips into Dean's motions now as he caught the rhythm. At least this position kept him somewhat in check, otherwise he'd be railing his brother hard, maybe too hard for a first time.

"Son…of a bitch," Dean muttered, his hand fisting into the leather seats at Sam's head as he moved harder, faster now. Sam's eyes were glued open, needing to memorize the sexy man above him just in case this really was him losing his mind. One of his hands left Dean's hips to grab him between his legs and he smiled as his partner let out a whine of delight. Really, the range of sounds his brother was making were both delightful and a terrible turn-on.

"Fuck," he groaned at a tight squeeze. "Fuck, fuck… We're so fucked."

"Now…what?"

"How the hell…am I supposed to not…just press you against something and fuck you raw? It was…hard enough before, but…you're too damn hot!" Dean grinned and Sam decided he'd forgive himself just this once for inflating his brother's ego. "Don't think you're getting out of this…without 'christening' the backseat."

Dean's eyes widened. "You're—"

Sam smirked fiercely as he drove in hard and fast now. "Hell yes. You on your knees, me behind you, and…_god_, stuff of dreams."

"Tell me that wasn't…what you were thinking of…days ago when I woke you up."

"All right, I won't tell you," he muttered, even though it wasn't entirely true. Best let Dean think it was.

"Oh hell!"

Sam was getting close now and he quickened his pace with his hips and hand, memorizing the much louder sounds now coming out of Dean. With his other hand, he dove his fingers into that much shorter hair and yanked him down, thrusting his tongue into that wet, hot cavern. His movements were becoming jerkier, less coordinated, and Dean let out a whine into the kiss. Suddenly his brother's body locked up over his, clamping down on Sam, and he felt something sticky and went hit his chest and even some on his chin. His hands went to both of Dean's hips as the man panted, resting on him a bit, and he muttered, "Better hold onto something."

Both hands went and gripped the seat and Sam moved Dean up and down into his few, final hard thrusts before he buried himself deeply and threw his head back, letting out a deep, guttural cry. Dean's tongue ran along his neck and Adam's apple as he pumped out his seed and slumped against the seat. Neither of them moved and his mind had been completely blown. It was right in a way words couldn't even describe, pure them, and he couldn't live without it anymore.

"I love you, Dean," he whispered, voice a bit raw. "Really. Not just as a brother."

"…Yeah, me too," was the shuddering sigh and suddenly everything in Sam's life was just that much brighter.


	4. Chapter 4

"If you say I told you so, I'll have to drive back over there and kill you."

Sam grinned from his spot on the bed, watching as Dean paced their hotel room and threatened Bobby over the phone. His brother was pissed at him because while he'd gotten their things from the car, Sam had booked their room and given their current relationship, had thought nothing of picking a room with one queen-sized bed. He couldn't tell if the reason Dean was mad was because of that, or because he was hoping for a bed with magic fingers.

Well, he'd just have to convince his brother that he had magic fingers too.

"Smug really doesn't suit you, Bobby." Dean hung up and glared at Sam, eying how he took up half the bed. "And you."

"What?" he said, pretending innocence.

"Don't 'what' me. You know exactly what the problem is."

Sam sighed a bit and shrugged, but he wasn't upset that Dean didn't like the idea of just one queen. His brother was a man of habit and he was likely still very uncomfortable about the whole situation. From being in a relationship in general, which he had epically failed at every time he'd tried it, to being in a relationship with Sam. He hadn't had years to grow used to the feeling like Sam had.

"It's just a bed, Dean."

"Sam…"

"I'm not being pushy, Dean, but I don't see why we can't share a bed now." He watched as Dean shifted his weight and kicked one of Sam's shoes in petulance, watching as it hit the wall. "What's the real problem?"

"I don't…sleep well with someone else in the same bed with me."

"Look, Dean, here's the way I see it: we're on the road a lot and there's been plenty of times where we've had to sleep in the car and there'll be plenty more in the future. The seats aren't big enough for more than one person. The only time I'll be able to sleep next to you is in a hotel or at Bobby's and so I'm going to take every chance I get, and you know why."

His brother shifted his weight a few times in silence before sighing and dropping down to sit on the edge of the bed to pull his shoes off. "I seriously regret getting into the habit of spoiling you as a kid."

Sam beamed a bit and sat up, wrapping his arm around his brother from behind as soon as the second shoe hit the floor. He hadn't had a chance to really hold Dean after their first time earlier that day. The car was not exactly conducive to what he wanted and they were in broad daylight on the side of the road. He didn't care what Dean would say about his need to cuddle; it was just how he was with someone he loved. With a tug he tumbled them back into bed.

"Dude, we are _not_ spooning." To prove it, Dean rolled over onto his back. Sam didn't care, instead remaining on his side and threw his arm over his brother's waist. "I never knew you were a cuddler."

"You don't know a lot of things," he said with a smirk and leaned down to kiss Dean. At first, he thought his partner wouldn't let him, tilted his head away, but after a few seconds turned back. He delighted in the feeling of their lips touching and he couldn't help leaning over, half-covering his brother's body. This was what he wanted just as much if not more than the sex: being able to be affectionate in the way he wanted. There was no way he could consider himself a closet romantic or clingy, but damn it, if he wanted to hug Dean, he was going to hug him!

Sam would never tell Dean that when he pulled back, he enjoyed the lazy, dazed look on his brother's face. They would have a job at some point tomorrow or the next day, but that was fine. In fact, better. To meld this new part of their life with the old one seamlessly. Not much had changed after all, at least not to him. To Dean, though, he could see in the way he reacted that the man's whole world had tipped on its axis and he was struggling to make sense of it. Dean had always been the more rigid of the two, the more resistant to change.

His lips nudged and traveled curiously along the stubble on his brother's face and felt the sigh. Was it of contentment? Frustration? Arousal? Annoyance? While Sam knew a lot about Dean, there were just some things he didn't know. He wasn't sure if it was because of their time separated thanks to Ruby's manipulation, or if they were things he had just never bothered to notice before. "Dean?"

"What?"

He met the darker eyes of his brother and wondered even more. There wasn't anything on his face to show discontent, or that he wasn't enjoying what Sam was doing. Was he even aware that he was, in fact, soaking up all the attention that he gave him as if he were a dry sponge finally thrown in water? "Nothing."

Dean frowned, but Sam ignored it, kissing at the juncture of his shoulder and neck. "What?" he insisted again.

Sam knew that if he didn't say anything, Dean would continue to bug. He knew that their calm moment of Dean allowing him to do anything he wanted would disappear and they'd probably argue. At the same time, he knew they'd end up arguing if he explained his thoughts because Dean wasn't one to _enjoy_ Sam's psychoanalysis of his brother's personality. So he latched onto something else to say instead. "This is exclusive, you know."

"I know that," Dean muttered with a glare.

"Do you?" he asked, rubbing his lips lightly against his collarbone.

"What are you implying, Sam?" The demand didn't have as much threat behind it as he could feel the shudder that went through Dean's body beneath his ministrations.

"I'm just saying that I know what you're like with women. I don't mind you looking, but I don't want you touching."

"Me?" Sam internally growled in annoyance when Dean levered himself up onto his elbows and dislodged his mouth from kissing along his neck. "Aren't you the 'sensitive' one that all women gravitate toward?"

He rolled his eyes. "Are you honestly going to say that I sleep with more women than you?"

"What I'm saying is I don't like the implication that…"

"That?" he prompted when Dean trailed off. He got the hint of what he meant and grinned when Dean wouldn't meet his eyes. "That you'd cheat on me?" The fact that was what he was about to say, Sam was sure of it, reassured him in a way he wouldn't ever admit, nor could he really explain why, other than that meant that Dean really _did_ see them in a relationship and not just as a pair that had sex on the side.

Once again, he was leveled with a glare, but it had lost most of its heat. "You know what I mean."

It was so cute how Dean didn't want to say it. Normally Sam wasn't so…insecure about things regarding his brother, but a lot had happened to them over the past year and he had never known what Dean was like when he was in love. He couldn't help it; he had to ask. So Sam braced himself back on his elbow, leaning over his brother, who had to relax back onto the bed to avoid having their foreheads meet in a concussion-inducing crash. "So, Dean…are you a jealous type?"

"What do I have to be jealous of?" his brother scoffed, complete with a roll of his eyes, and it only made him grin harder.

"So you are then."

"I just said I wasn't!"

"Good thing I'm not. We only need one person that's jealous all the time. I'll take it as a compliment."

As it was designed to do, it only annoyed Dean, who punched him in the shoulder. For a minute, he had thought his brother might have grabbed a pillow instead, but clearly Dean had some preservation for his sanity, because Sam would have never let him live it down. The only vague apology Dean got from Sam for his teasing was a kiss. At first it was annoyed, like Dean didn't want to be placated, but Sam could feel the tension start to seep away after a minute.

"Stop that," Dean muttered when they pulled away to breathe.

He merely let one of his hands ease down his brother's side and back up, nibbling at his ear. "Stop what? I'm merely proving a point."

"What point?"

"I'm better than the magic fingers."

Dean groaned as Sam grinned in victory.

-End-


End file.
